Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
He never did.
I refused to be him. I refused to be her, too. I just decided fairytales and happily ever after didn't exist. Love and marriage and all that shit were meant for other people, not me.
Except…they feel a whole helluva lot like they might be meant for me right now.
Fuck.
I curve my hand around Morgan's jaw, preparing to kiss her. But I see this split second of panic in her eyes, like she's ready to bolt. Fucking hell.
I brush my lips across her forehead instead, and then step back, giving her a little space. I need her to want to run to me, not away. Until she's ready to give me that, I can't push her. If I do, I'll only push her away.
"I'll carry your stuff in," I mutter, grabbing the first box.
"T-thank you," she whispers, her voice shaking.
Chapter Six
Morgan
There's a rhythm and flow to ranch life that's fascinating. Everyone is always up before the sun, trudging to work with a kind of steadfast determination that I find soothing. No one bothers me much. If they wonder why I'm here, they don't ask. They just invite me into the fold, accepting that I'm here now.
The morning after I arrive, I help Letty in the kitchen. At least, I try to help. But after burning my second pan of sausage and actually setting the stove on fire, Letty shoos me out with a laugh.
I don't blame her. Cooking isn't really my forte.
I spend the morning wandering around, just taking it all in. The ranch is massive, and everyone seems to have a job to do.
When I find Wade trying to corner a calf, I try to help. Somehow, that ends with him facedown in the mud and the calf running free in the pasture. It takes three cowboys and a lasso to finally wrangle him. They, wisely, don't let me help.
Gunner tries to teach me how to use the lasso afterward. The only thing I catch is the side of his face with my fist when I try to throw the dang rope. I'm pretty sure he's going to have a black eye. He isn't mad about it, but I feel guilty.
I'm not very good at this ranching thing.
They offer to let me watch them castrate a bull, but once they explain the mechanics, I quickly decide that is not something I need to see and scurry off.
I find Blaze repairing a roof on the west side of the property.
I stand in the shadows of a tree for a while, just watching him. He's shirtless, and so damn beautiful I want to cry a little bit. The way he moves is fascinating, like he was built for manual labor.
After a while, I get lost in the rhythm of his work. So lost, I don't even realize he's noticed me watching until he hops down, sauntering toward me.
"Calamity," he murmurs, his eyes locked on my face.
"Hey. Hi," I squeak. "I was just, um…looking for something to do."
"Yeah?" His eyes glitter with mischief. "Did you find anything?"
Yes, you.
"Nope," I lie, shoving my hands behind my back. "Nothing at all." It's probably better not to tell him how my morning went. Just in case he decides maybe I don't belong here, after all.
He chuckles, drawing to a stop in front of me. "Is that so?"
I try not to watch the rivulet of sweat running down his chest, really, I do. But my eyes lock onto it anyway, fascinated by the way it rolls down the stark lines of ink painted into his skin.
I want to follow that same path with my tongue.
My core clenches at the thought. I think I even whimper.
He groans softly, reaching out to tilt my head back. "You should go inside, baby. Before you burn."
"I'm fine."
"You're red."
It's definitely not from the sun, but I think he knows that. He's teasing me, with this look in his eye that says maybe he thinks I'm a little bit beautiful, too.
Maybe that's why I turn my head, letting my lips brush against his thumb. Maybe that's why I feel something reckless and wild bubbling up in my stomach. I don't know. I just know that I want this man in a way I've never wanted anything.
He groans when my lips touch his thumb, heat flaring in his eyes. The way he looks at me…God. I just want him to keep looking at me like that forever.
Wait. What?
Crap.
"I…uh…" I step back quickly, my heart hammering. "I should get inside."
"Yeah," he practically purrs, his eyes burning holes straight through me. "You definitely should."
"Have fun pounding nails."
He groans through a chuckle, and I flee.
What the hell is he doing to me?
The most terrifying part isn't that I don't know. It's that I think I do.
Iavoid him for the rest of the day and most of the next, trying to get my head on straight. But my luck runs out when I get out of the shower the following night and run right into him, like he's been standing outside the door, just waiting for me.